


A Matter of Conjecture

by deLoonii



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But he helps, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hannibal is Hannibal, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Someone Help Will Graham, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deLoonii/pseuds/deLoonii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Will’s skin was scrubbed nearly raw, his unkempt brunet ringlets were plastered to his forehead and, with the fluffy white towel clung to his bony hips, he looked positively angelic. Hannibal chided himself mentally for staring before clearing his throat behind a hand.</i>
</p><p>Will is attacked while on a case and rather than calling the police or going to a hospital, he makes a late night visit to everyone's favourite cannibalistic psychiatrist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Conjecture

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a way to get out of my writer's block and it morphed into well... into this. I really haven't written 'in' canon so I hope everyone likes it.

It’s 3:07am when someone knocks at Hannibal Lecter’s front door. Hannibal didn’t actually sleep that often, but there were only two [living] people who knew that. Naturally, he was curious. Setting down his volume of _The Divine Comedy_ he uncrossed his nimble legs and stood, adjusting his robe as he left his library. Crossing into the foyer, he spotted the shock of brunet curls through the front window. He undid the lock and opened the door, the overwhelming scent of panic, blood and sex hit his olfactory. Will was bleeding in several places, the most notably the steady trickle that pooled under his left leg.

“Good evening, Doctor Lecter.” Will rasped, his face straining to remain neutral though he was in obvious pain. “C-can I come in.”

“Yes, of course.” Hannibal ushered the other inside, sneering at the small puddle that was staining his porch.

He ushered the bleeding man as quickly as he could into the first bathroom used for guests. “Can you sit?” He asked, lifting Will’s chin so that he could inspect the purpling bruises on his neck.

“Probably… But I would rather not…” Will replied, lifting his left leg so that he wouldn’t be bleeding all over Hannibal’s clean tile.

Hannibal nodded, letting his hands drop from the other’s neck. He nodded toward the counter, indicating that he could lean if he so desired. He turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom. He went to retrieve the medical kit he kept the kitchen for emergencies. He tried not to let his imagination take too many liberties with the fact that Will was bleeding in his home and _he_ wasn’t the cause. He found Will leaning uncomfortably against the counter when he returned the bathroom. In the sterile light of the bathroom, Hannibal took a better inventory of what had happened to the profiler.

“Will, I need you to tell me _exactly_ what happened so I know how to help you.” Hannibal explained, removing different supplies from the kit as he spoke.

Will sniffed uncomfortably; his normal aversion to eye-contact had morphed into the inability to even look in the other’s direction. He shifted on his non-bleeding leg as he tongue darted out to lave along the split in his pouty bottom lip. There was a scrape on his cheek that looked as if someone had held his face against the ground.

“I was uh, following a hunch.” Will started, a humourless chuckle lacing in the words. “Turns out I was right…”

“Will.” Hannibal sighed, exasperated that the professor was avoiding actually _telling_ him anything.

“There had been an officer, a police first responder at all of the scenes… Fink… He was on-duty when all the assaults happened, but something just didn’t make sense.” Will gritted, brushing the matted brown locks off his forehead. “I went to the station to see if I could talk with him… He apparently knew I was coming…”

Hannibal’s pupils dilated with controlled rage. “What did he do Will.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but rather a demand to know.

Will flinched at the tone but continued. “He caught me when I was leaving… Grabbed me from behind and drug me into the alleyway… I tried to shout but that’s how I ended up with this.” He pointed to his lip. “He said he didn’t have to kill me like the women because no one would believe me anyway.”

Hannibal held up a hand, silencing the other before he said any more. He took a deep breath, a hail of half emotions pelleting his clinical mind. Will had been assaulted. He had to come to Hannibal rather than a hospital. The logical part of Hannibal’s mind realised this was a very good opportunity to deepen the other’s trust in him.

“I regret to have to ask this of you, but would you please remove your clothes so that I may properly assess your injuries?” Hannibal queried, his voice gentle like he were coaxing a wounded animal.

Will nodded his head jerkily, his hands moving to remove his threadbare jacket. Hannibal took care donning a pair of latex gloves, trying to keep his eyes neutral as the other man stripped bare before him. The doctor didn’t deny that he was attracted to the younger man. His original curiosity to see just how far the other could be twisted before breaking completely had morphed into something a bit more intimate.

He couldn’t hide the twitch of a snarl that flitted over his lips when he looked at Will. The, now nude, man before him was littered with lacerations and bruises along his hips and legs. Most of the damage was focused around his hips; half-moon nail marks bitten into his skin, angry scratches along the backs of his thighs and worst of all, the now dried stream of blood that was coming from between the two fleshy globes of his ass. Will turned his head to look over his shoulder, his eyes still cast to the ground.

“Could you say something…? I came to you so I wouldn’t have to deal with silence.” His words were harsh but there was no real bite behind them, only the subtle waver of anguish as of yet unleashed.

“Forgive me, Will. I was just taking note of everything.” Hannibal apologised, taking a step toward the profiler. “I unfortunately will need you to bend over so that I can further assess the damage.”

“Yeah… I figured.” Will whispered, shakily bending forward so his chest was resting on the counter. “So… uh, am I going to need stitches or anything…?”

If Hannibal were a man of less control he would have snarled with rage. As it were he was near shaking with fury at the sight before him. Realising Will had asked him a question he collected himself. “No, but I will need to disinfect the wound… This is not an easy question, I know, but do you know if he used a condom, Will?”

“I… I think so yeah.” Will answered, letting his head lie against the counter.

Though the profiler couldn’t see it, Hannibal nodded, slowly moving to crouch behind the other. “I am going to start the examination now, Will.”

Will made a noise to signal he understood but didn’t coherently respond. Hannibal touched a gloved hand to Will’s thigh, the younger tensing visibly but did not flinch away from the contact. Hannibal had to commend the professor’s control, even when in such a state. Working with as much clinical detachment as he could muster, Hannibal set to cleaning the blood for Will’s legs. As the cotton-swabs stained maroon, he threw them into the bin and continued on. It took eighteen minutes for Hannibal to completely disinfect everything.

“Would you like to take a shower, Will?” He asked, standing from his position. Looking at the other, he noticed that his shoulders were minutely shaking.

“Y-yeah… Yeah, thank you.” Will mumbled, lifting himself up with trembling arms. He padded his way toward the glass-door shower, his limp more pronounced without the shroud of clothes.

Hannibal hesitated, almost reaching out to help the man. Thinking better of it he turned on his heel and strode the door. He only exited when he heard the spray start up and the room began to fog with steam. Will couldn’t put those _filthy_ clothes back on; they reeked of the assault and simply putting them back on might trigger him. He took quick strides up the stairs, walking into his bedroom and practically ripped open the drawer. He refused to let his emotions get the better of him but someone had touched _his_ plaything. Hannibal Lecter did not share his things.

Deciding that pants would be a bit too strenuous on the other’s frame, he selected one of the lighter silk robes that he wore during the summer months. Shutting off the lights as he left, he proceeded back to the bathroom, hearing the water still running when he returned. Will could use the entirety of the hot water if that is what he needed. The doctor made his presence known with a knock on the shower door. He set the robe on the counter and leaned against the wall, contemplating exactly what to do next. On the one hand: he should at least _try_ to convince the profiler to go to the police. On the other, if Will didn’t report the man, Hannibal could personally deal with the offense.

“Doctor Lecter.”

The sound of Will’s voice pulled the flaxen haired man from inner workings. He glanced up and was momentarily taken aback by the sight before him. Will’s skin was scrubbed nearly raw, his unkempt brunet ringlets were plastered to his forehead and, with the fluffy white towel clung to his bony hips, he looked positively angelic. Hannibal chided himself mentally for staring before clearing his throat behind a hand.

“I wanted to make sure didn’t need anything. I’ve left you a robe,” he indicated toward the counter with a nonplussed wave, “would you like me to wash your clothes?”

Will knew that he should at least take his clothes in to be processed by the team. He could easily lie and say he had been attacked less severely than he actually had. Sighing, he stepped toward the counter and ran a still shaking hand over the soft material of the robe. His eyes flitted to somewhere around Hannibal’s chin when he nodded, giving the other permission.

Collecting the soiled articles from the floor, Hannibal bowed his head to the other. “I will be in the study once I have put these in the wash. Join me when you’re ready.”

With one final glance, Hannibal left the other to change. The doctor had to resist the urge to destroy the clothes in his hands as he walked to his laundry room. Throwing the articles into the washing machine with little of the care he would normally take, he stopped in the kitchen to wash his hands and make some tea for his guest. Hannibal found the profiler standing awkwardly before the fire in the study.

“Apologises for keeping you waiting, Will, would you like some tea?” Hannibal offered, setting the small tray on the table between the two chairs facing the fire.

Will nodded slightly before turning to look over at his shoulder at the man behind him. “Why didn’t you make me go to a hospital…? Or call the police or something?”

“Because if you wanted to do either of those things, you would not have come to me.” Hannibal replied, taking a seat to watch the younger man.

Will raked his fingers through his drying hair, forcing it into even more disarray. He twitched almost unconsciously, hands running over the knot around his middle. It was easy enough to tell the younger man had yet to begin processing what had transpired that evening. With a sudden blur of movement, Will collapsed on his knees, clutching his chest. Hannibal was at Will’s side within seconds, grabbing the man’s shoulders to try and ground him.

“You are having an anxiety attack, Will.” Hannibal explain, keeping his voice level and soothing; “are you familiar with them?”

The brunet could only manage a nod through the choked pants emitting from his lithe frame. He scrambled his hands against Hannibal’s arms, trying to find some purchase in the man before him. Hannibal wrapped his arms around the professor, giving him space to breathe but close enough that he could feel him there. Will was shaking violently in the doctor’s arms, his damp curls brushing against his neck.

“Breathe for me, Will. I’m here for you.” Hannibal cooed, turning his head to nose Will’s hair.

After several strained minutes, Will went boneless against Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal held him a bit tighter, rubbing his back in soothing circles. He could feel that there was more than just the man’s curls dampening his neck and shirt collar.

“D-doctor Lecter?” Will voice was cracked with further inaudible sobs yet shed. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Will, I’ve told you, never apologise for coming to me.” He soothed, cautiously tipping Will’s chin up so their eyes met.

Will visibly twitched from the contact but his eyes didn’t flit away from Hannibal’s as they so often did. The way his lips were parted made Hannibal’s heart swell with that same possessiveness from earlier that evening. He inhaled silently before looking toward the crackling fire. After a moment longer, the doctor let his hands drop away from the other. He offered a hand silently to the still kneeling man.

“Come, it is late and you should rest.” He explained, helping Will to stand so he didn’t aggravate his injuries.

“Right…” Will agreed though his hand lingering in Hannibal’s for a moment. “Can I make a…Can I make a request, Doctor Lecter?”

The doctor turned to look at the man standing at his side, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. He likely knew what Will was going to ask, but hearing the words fall from the profiler’s mouth made it all the sweeter to his ears. Will fumbled with his hands, debating whether or not he would actually go through with speaking.

“Will?” Hannibal prompted, raising his head a fraction.

“I-I don’t think that I should be left alone… Would you, uh… Would you stay with me? Please?” Will asked, his words so carefully picked that it would seem they would shatter if said any louder.

Hannibal nodded with a small, affectionate smile; a smile only ever seen by Will these days. He offered him a hand again, which the other tentatively accepted. They ascended the stairs together, Hannibal turning lights down or off as they went. Will seemed to hesitate the closer they got to the master bedroom, but with a reassuring squeeze to his hand from Hannibal seemed to motivate him forward. The elder held the door for him, closing it with a soft click after the other walked through the threshold.

“I’m not surprised that your bedroom is just as elegant as the rest of your home.” Will commented unthinkingly as he took in the room.

Hannibal chuckled at the words, letting the other get acquainted and comfortable with the dimly lit room. He removed his robe and hung it on its assigned hook. He turned to watch the other, finding him staring at him with doe-like eyes. Hannibal tip his head, hoping to prompt the other to speak his mind.

“Does this violate some professional boundary or something, Doctor?” Will asked with a nervous, self-deprecating laugh.

“Technically,” Hannibal began as he began undoing the top-most buttons of his night shirt, “there are no professional boundaries for us to cross. You are not officially my patient, Will.”

With a slow nod, Will moved to sit on the plush bed that was entirely too big for a man living on his own, but _goddamn this bed was soft_. Hannibal set down next to Will, at a respectful distance of course, and looked at the man. Will would be in control of the situation at hand; after all, trust must be earned a bit at a time.

“So… how do you normally uh, sleep?” Will asked, rubbing his neck as he avoided the other’s eyes. “I mean… How is this going to work?”

“I am happy to accommodate you in any way, Will. How would you like this to proceed?” Hannibal countered.

Will sighed, scrubbing his hand over his tired eyes. “You are so fucking patronizing sometimes, Lecter… I guess…” He tangled his fingers into his hair, fighting for words. “I-I really haven’t ever slept next to someone… for any amount of extended time…”

“We do not need to sleep, but you do need to rest.”

Will said nothing for a long moment, his hands running absently over the fabric of the robe. He sighed heavily through his nose and looked over in Hannibal’s direction, his eyes training on a spot just below the man’s cheekbone. Hannibal kept his hands folded in his lap, acting pliant to the man next to him.

“I am too exhausted to even try at this point.” Will laughed, falling back into the overstuffed coverlet. “Just… Don’t leave okay…”

“I won’t, I promise.” Hannibal chuckled, watching the other, “Would you like to actually get in the bed, or would you prefer to just lie there all night?”

Will gave the man a look, a mix between a grimace and a grin, and scooted up the bed. He ran his hand tentatively over the duvet before pulling it back and slipping under it, his eyes blinking in surprise at the softness. Hannibal moved off the end of the bed to take up the spot next to the profiler, sitting at top the coverlet. He watched Will as the man fumbled in the sheets, much like one of his beloved dogs did when getting comfortable. Once he was comfortable lying in the other’s bed, he looked at the flaxen haired man. They shared a momentary glance before Will’s eyes lifted to the ceiling. Hannibal relaxed back on the bed, taking the iPad off the night stand and uncovering the screen. He knew Will was watching him, but he kept his relaxed posture, reading on the lit screen.

“Goodnight, Doctor Lecter.” Will murmured finally, his voice dropping a few octaves with sleepiness.

“Goodnight, Will.” Hannibal replied, flicking his finger over the screen to flip the page.

Within twenty pages of the article Hannibal was reading, Will’s breath was coming from his parted lips in even time. Hannibal set the iPad back on the stand, watching the sleeping man next to him. He looked practically angelic curled in Hannibal’s sheets, wearing Hannibal’s robe. That possessive knot twisted in the pit of the doctor’s stomach again and slowly Hannibal reached a steady hand to brush Will’s curls away from his sleeping face.

“Pleasant dreams, good Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> deloonii.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001747) by [xEatxThexRudex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xEatxThexRudex/pseuds/xEatxThexRudex)




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